Music
I was, of course, too young to understand nostalgia as a neophyte punk know-it-all and hate-it-all-or-most-of-it-anyway, too green (sometimes literally) to get why anyone would pay to see punk legends of yore. We’re talking 1995-98 here. I remember Agent Orange and Angry Samoans seemed to play in the Bay Area monthly, and I liked “Bloodstains” and Inside My Brain as much as the next geeky, just-barely-not-a-midget ...
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